


Eye Witness

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The MCRT investigate the shooting of a former petty officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye Witness

It was, Special Agent Tony DiNozzo thought, a sign of how long that he had been driving with Special Agent Jethro Gibbs that he was able to indulge in philosophical meditation on the way to a crime scene. It had taken some years not to feel nauseous or cling to his seat belt as they hurtled along but he had now acquired a degree of mental detachment which enabled him to think higher thoughts rather than worry about whether his will was in order or if he had put clean boxers on that morning. On this particular morning Tony was contemplating the oddity that was the work of a federal agent.

Typically the team got bored if they didn't have an active case and responded energetically if a call came in to a new crime scene but Tony was aware that their opportunity to get their teeth into something new came at someone else's cost. It was all too familiar to arrive and find a bloodied body, a distraught loved one and/or some terrible loss inflicted on an innocent party. Tony always felt a degree of guilt at the initial excitement and anticipation of a new puzzle to solve; he guessed that the day that feeling of discomfort went away was the day he should hand in his badge. That day was slightly different as the team was on its way to a crime scene involving someone who they knew and liked.

Jerry Munro, a former petty officer, ran a wine and coffee bar in Anacostia which was frequented by many people who worked at the Navy Yard. It was the venue of choice for the MCRT on the occasions when they wanted to mull over difficult cases or celebrate a successful conclusion. Jerry was the ideal barkeeper: ready to be the genial host but also knowing when to leave a group alone. Everyone liked Jerry and had been glad when he had recently extended the bar by buying the shop next door. Even Gibbs had been known to unwind over a glass of bourbon while comparing stories of when they had been in the service.

It had been a shock, therefore, when the call came in to say that there had been a shooting at Munro's: the team always reacted quickly but they had broken all records at this call. Gibbs screeched the sedan to a halt outside  _Munro's Place_  just as an ambulance sirened away. McGee brought up the rear in the second car more sedately. Gibbs stepped calmly out of the vehicle and stalked towards the nearest Metro PD officer. Tony staggered out and paused for a moment to let his brain catch up with his body.

"What happened?" demanded Gibbs as he showed his credentials.

"Shooting," said the officer tersely. He knew the team well and in particular knew there was no point in over-elaborating with Gibbs. "Seems that a single shooter went in. The owner was cleaning the bar. One shot to the chest as far as we could see. There was a car waiting outside, gun person got inside and they drove off."

"Gun  _person_?" asked Gibbs with a quirked eyebrow at this possible political correctness.

"Don't want to assume, Agent Gibbs," came the reply, "hear you've got a rule against that."

Gibbs nodded at him to continue.

"Guy across the road saw the shooter get into the car. He got a partial licence plate and a description of the car. Says the shooter pulled something like a balaclava down over his or her face before getting into the car. We've got an alert out for the car. The witness is waiting for you."

"Victim is a former petty officer," Gibbs announced, "We'll take this." In a rare concession, and as a reward for the officer's efficient reporting he added, "If that's OK with you, Officer …," he leaned forward to read the name badge, "Officer _Dodd._ "

"Not up to me, Agent Gibbs. Ask my lieutenant."

"Is the body still inside?" asked Gibbs.

"Body?" said Dodd, "no. Mr Munro is still alive. Don't know how, but the paramedics brought him back. They're taking him to George Washington."

Gibbs felt his spirits lift a little at this news.

"Bishop!" he barked, "go to George Washington hospital. See how Jerry is doing. Stay there with him."

Ellie nodded and trotted over to the second sedan.

"DiNozzo, go speak to our witness. Officer Dodd will show you."

Dodd meekly accepted being ordered about, "Come on, Tony," he said, "I'll introduce you." They crossed the road to where a middle aged man waited with eager anticipation.

"This is Mr William Dunlop," began Dodd.

"Billy," corrected the witness, "do  _you_  want to hear what I saw as well?"

Officer Dodd was determined to try and retain some control of the situation, "Mr Dunlop," he said, "this is Special Agent DiNozzo. He's a federal agent with NCIS. He wants to hear what you have to say."

Mr Dunlop quivered with excitement. Tony got the feeling that he didn't really care who he spoke to, he just wanted to tell his story again.

"Like I said, I was standing here when I saw someone running out of the bar. There was a car revving his engine. That's what I heard first. The guy pulled a mask or something over his face. Got in the car. It was a brown Ford. They headed that way," the witness pointed down the street. "I got part of the licence plate," he finished proudly.

"Did you hear gun shots, Mr Dunlop … er … Billy?" asked Tony.

"No," said Billy regretfully, "it was the sound of the car that made me look up."

"Could you describe the person you saw?" asked Tony.

"Not really. Medium height, I guess. Might have had dark hair. Couldn't really tell. It all happened so fast," said Billy sadly.

"OK," said Tony, "well, that's helpful, Billy. Here's my card. Call me if you think of anything else." Tony turned to go.

"But the lady in the bar must have seen something," offered Billy.

"What?" asked Tony, turning back again.

"Yeah. There was a woman sitting in the window. The guy turned back for a moment when he left the bar. Before he pulled the mask down. I reckon he stared right at the woman for quite a while. She'll know what he looked like."

"Thank you, Billy," said Tony, "do you know where this woman is?"

"She's sitting over there," said Billy pointing to a seat on the sidewalk.

Tony hurried over to where Gibbs and McGee were standing outside the bar.

"Boss. The guy over the road didn't see much. But he says there was a woman in the bar who probably saw the shooter's face. Over there. Sitting on that bench."

"McGee," ordered Gibbs, "go speak with her. DiNozzo, with me."

Tim walked down the street while Tony followed Gibbs into the bar.

"Lot of blood," he observed.

"You think?" said Gibbs.

"Jerry was lucky the paramedics got here so fast," said Tony.

Gibbs rolled his eyes at these comments, "photos, DiNozzo," he ordered, "and look for shell casings."

Tony and Gibbs examined the bar area but there was little to see, apart from the pool of blood, that was out of the ordinary.

"Doesn't seem to have been a robbery," said Gibbs as he looked at the till which was still closed.

"Wouldn't have had many customers yet this morning," said Tony, "wouldn't have been much to take yet. What you think, Boss?"

"Don't know," said Gibbs, "some kind of hit? But who'd be after Jerry?"

"Terrorist?" said Tony sceptically, "you know, former sailor. He might be a target?"

"Could be," said Gibbs, "but there'd be higher profile targets than a lowly petty officer. McGee! What you got?" he asked as Tim scurried in.

"Not much, Boss," said Tim. "Theresa Livingstone. She was sitting in a corner in the window. Says she got here early and was the only customer. She didn't see the attacker come in, she was reading a book. Heard a shot, looked up and saw the shooter run past. He stopped outside, looked back in and stared at her for a second or two. He raised the gun again. She thought he might be about to shoot her but he pulled his mask down and jumped into the car."

"Good," said Gibbs. "Get her back to the Navy Yard. Get her with a sketch artist so we can see what this dirt bag looks like."

"Won't work, Boss," said McGee, "she says she wouldn't recognise him again. Said he was medium height. Might have brown hair but there was nothing for her to remember him by."

"What?" demanded Gibbs, "but she says he stared right at her."

"Sorry, Boss," said McGee, "she's adamant that she can't describe him. I suggested she might once she calmed down, you know … thought about it but she's determined."

Gibbs looked as if he was about to storm over to Theresa and shake a memory out of her but Tony intervened.

"Do you want me to have a go, Boss? After all," he smirked, "I am the expert with women."

Gibbs and McGee looked at Tony sceptically but Gibbs recognised that he might not be the best bet.

"Go on," he said.

Tony retraced McGee's steps until he came to the bench.

"Ms Livingstone," he said.

The woman looked up, "Agent McGee," she said, "can I go now?"

Tony squashed a feeling of annoyance at being mistaken for Tim, "I'm Agent DiNozzo," he said smoothly, "one of Agent McGee's co-workers. Just a few more questions. May I sit down?"

Theresa sniffed and nodded assent.

"So," said Tony, "you told Agent McGee that you don't remember anything about the shooter?"

"No. I told him I don't remember anything that will help you find him," she corrected, "he was a couple of inches shorter than you. Didn't seem to have a distinctive walk and was just wearing jeans and a grey top of some sort. I don't think that's much to go on, do you?"

"Age?" asked Tony.

Theresa thought for a moment, "I don't think he walked like a typical old person. But I don't think there  _is_  such a person, do you?"

Tony considered the various elderly people he knew and had to agree. "Did you hear him say anything?"

"No, but I wasn't listening. I was reading my book. I didn't notice him coming in. I didn't hear anything until the noise of the gun; I didn't know what it was at first. It didn't sound like it does on the TV. He hurried out but he didn't speak."

"And then he turned when he was outside and looked back in?" asked Tony.

"Yes," agreed Theresa, "but only for a moment. And I was startled. I didn't have time to take note of what he was like."

"Witness across the street thought he stared at you for a few seconds," said Tony.

"Perhaps it seemed like seconds to him," said Theresa, "but it wasn't long enough for me to think I'd know him again."

Tony tried another track, "do you come to Jerry's often?"

"Most mornings."

"Did you speak to Jerry this morning?"

"Who's Jerry?"

"The owner. The guy at the bar."

"Oh, I didn't really notice. You know, early morning. Not really awake."

"Did you see anyone else?" asked Tony.

"I don't think so. I like my spot in the window. It's a bit hidden. And I was reading my book. I was expecting to meet a … er … friend but I was early so I wasn't looking at the door to see if he was coming."

"I see. What work do you do, Ms Livingstone?"

"Obviously not something that requires great observational skills, Agent DiNozzo," said Theresa, "I'm an accountant. I work for Manor Conglomerates, we specialise in catering outlets."

"What do you think of Jerry's bar?" asked Tony, trying to establish some neutral ground.

"I'm not sure that the extension was a good idea. It doesn't seem to have brought in extra customers, I doubt if there's been an increase in unit alcohol consumption. Although the existing clients probably like the extra room."

"I see," said Tony, "well, thank you for that. Here's my card. Please contact me if you think of anything else."

"Can I go now?" asked Theresa.

"Yes," agreed Tony, "have we got your contact details?"

Theresa nodded and walked away. Tony gazed after her trying to work out what was making his gut churn. Ms Livingstone had been apparently open and ready to help but had actually had nothing to offer. She had been a little nervous but that was understandable given what had just happened but there had been something strange about the way she hadn't quite looked Tony in the eye when she was speaking. Tony shrugged, perhaps it was just the oddity of her mistaking him for Tim which had disturbed him.

"What you got?" asked Gibbs when Tony re-joined them.

"Nothing, Boss. Nothing more than Tim got out of her," said Tony.

"Come on," said Gibbs, "nothing else to do here. McGee's checked out the security camera but it looks as if the guy knew where it was and managed to avoid being caught by it. Metro PD have found the getaway car. It's a couple of blocks away."

NCISNCIS

A few hours later, back at the Navy Yard, Abby was poring over the abandoned getaway car while McGee was looking at footage from various CCTV cameras near Jerry's bar.

"Car was stolen, Boss," said Tony as Gibbs returned from a coffee run, "and Abby says there's nothing obvious in it. Looks like the steering wheel and handles were wiped clean but she's still looking."

Gibbs grunted, "Bishop called. Jerry's unconscious and will be for a while. Doctors think he may have moved at the last minute. Bullet just missed his heart."

"Or it was an incompetent shooter," suggested McGee.

"Everything else seems fairly competent," said Gibbs, "smooth getaway. He might not have realised he hadn't killed Jerry."

"The witness in the window didn't think the extension was a good idea," said Tony.

"What?" asked Gibbs.

"She's an accountant. Works in hospitality. She seemed to think that the extra space might not be bringing in any extra revenue."

"So?" asked McGee.

"Don't know," said Tony honestly, "just figured that could mean that Jerry has some money worries."

"Doesn't necessarily mean anything," said Gibbs, "the new extension hasn't been open long."

"True," said Tony, "but I'm guessing it didn't come cheap."

"Seems a bit early for Jerry to be running into trouble," said Gibbs.

"Still …" said Tony.

"What you thinking, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs.

"Don't know," said Tony, "but if this was a hit … it might be that Jerry might be struggling to make money."

"You think he might have got in with loan sharks?" said Tim doubtfully, "doesn't seem like the Jerry we know."

Tony shrugged in agreement.

"Check it out, McGee," ordered Gibbs, "look into his finances. See where the money came from to buy the shop next door. DiNozzo, take over looking at the security footage."

"On it, Boss. Hey, Tim, what did you think about Ms Livingstone?" asked Tony.

"What? Uh, she was a bit jumpy, I guess. A bit skittish. Why?"

"Don't know. There was something … off. She thought I was you?"

"What?"

"When I went back. She called me Agent McGee," said Tony.

"So?" said Tim, with his eye on the computer search.

"Well, it just seemed odd. I mean, who in their right mind would mistake me for you?" mused Tony.

"Don't know," said Tim, "perhaps she just prefers younger men?"

Tony favoured him with a sour look but Ellie intervened before a war of words could break out, "don't know," she said, "she was rattled. You're both the same height, both wearing NCIS windbreakers. Easy mistake to make."

Tony still looked inclined to be offended but decided not to argue further, "You may be right," he said loftily, "but it's weird."

Bishop and McGee smiled at Tony's slightly hurt feelings but bent their heads to their tasks when they remembered Gibbs' looming presence. Sometime later, Tim announced,

"Nothing hinky about Jerry's finances, Boss. Took out a loan with the bank. All above board. He's missed a couple of payments but he's kept the bank informed and they've adjusted the terms. Doesn't look to be in real trouble yet."

"Terrorist after all, Boss?" asked Tony doubtfully.

"Could be," said Gibbs equally unconvinced, "check to see if there's been any uptick in chatter."

"Nobody's claimed responsibility," Bishop pointed out, "you'd think they would if it had been a terrorist."

"And wouldn't the bar have been a better target when it was full?" said McGee, "lots of navy personnel go there as well as other people from the Navy Yard."

"Think he was casing things out?" said Bishop, "and it went wrong?"

"Why have a getaway car ready if it was just reconnaissance?" asked Tony.

Bishop huffed a sigh, "it doesn't make sense, does it?"

"Do you think Ms Livingstone is on it somehow?" asked McGee.

"Why?" asked Tony.

"Don't know. Seems a bit odd that she didn't remember anything," said Tim. "Perhaps she was some type of lookout?"

"Could be," said Tony, "there was something about her. Something familiar. Can't put my finger on it."

"She's not one of your exes, is she?" asked McGee in sudden dread.

"Movie plot?" suggested Bishop. She was not a movie fan but, as someone who got ideas from eating cheese puffs, she was open to Tony's own leftfield methods.

"Do a background search on her," ordered Gibbs, "see what shows up.  Bishop, you're with me. We're going back to Jerry's place. See if we can spot anything."

Tony wistfully watched them go before returning to computer work.

NCISNCIS

"What you got?" asked Gibbs when he returned an hour or so later.

"Ms Livingstone looks clean," said Tony, "lives alone in an apartment just round the block from Jerry's. Single, never been married. Worked for Manor Conglomerates for five years. No criminal records or associations. No debts, couldn't find any skeletons in her closet. Still checking the CCTV footage, no known criminals have shown up in the vicinity but Abby's still looking at it and still going over the getaway car."

"McGee!" asked Gibbs.

"Carried on digging into Jerry's finances. Only odd thing is that he's reduced his liquor order in the last month."

"That's odd," said Ellie, "his cellar looked full enough. Look." She put pictures from the cellar up on the plasma.

McGee, Gibbs and Tony clustered round. "Must have just changed suppliers," said Tony. Gibbs nodded and they turned away.

"Wait," said McGee, "look," and he jabbed a finger at one box, "Glen Lughran whisky."

"What about it, McGee?" asked Gibbs.

"It's what my father drinks. Imported from Scotland."

"So?" asked Tony.

"The box doesn't look right. The picture on the front."

"What you saying, Tim?" asked Gibbs.

"It's fake. Or smuggled. Boss, do you think Jerry was buying illegal liquor?"

"That might explain why someone started leaning on him," said Tony, "perhaps he wasn't keeping up with the payments. Somehow I don't think whisky smugglers are quite as accommodating about rearranging instalments as banks are."

"Bishop, get on to the US Customs, see if they know of any liquor smuggling in DC," ordered Gibbs. His phone rang at that moment, "OK, Abs, on my way," he replied. "Abby thinks she's found something in the getaway car," he announced, "McGee, you're with me."

Tony watched them go, "guess that means Tess is in the clear," he said.

"Theresa," said Bishop.

"What?" said Tony.

"Theresa. Theresa Livingstone."

"What did I say?" asked Tony.

"Tess, you called her Tess. What's the matter? Where are you going?" asked a bewildered Ellie as Tony leapt to his feet and grabbed his gun.

"That's it," he said triumphantly, "I knew it reminded me of something."

"Wait!" said Ellie, "what …?"

"Tell Gibbs I thought of something," called Tony over his shoulder as he ran to the elevator.

NCISNCIS

"Gibbs!" said Abby excitedly, "guess what I found."

"Come on, Abs," said Gibbs, "You know I don't play that game."

"Oh," said Abby disappointedly, "but one day, Gibbs. One day you  _will_  guess."

"That day's not today, Abby," said Gibbs with renewed firmness.

Abby looked as if she might want to argue but her excitement at finding evidence won out and she satisfied herself with a scowl rather than by withholding information.

"I found a hair!" she said triumphantly, "caught in the head rest of the passenger seat."

"And?" asked McGee.

"Patience, Timmy," rebuked Abby, "patience. Like I keep telling you guys, I'm all alone down here. Well, except for Bert and the guys: who are  _great_  but they don't  _start_  many conversations. Don't get me wrong, they're great listeners but they kind of depend on me to speak first."

"Abby," said Gibbs with as much patience as he could muster.

"Oh. Sorry, I got carried away," said Abby penitently, "but it is quiet down here. Which I know you would like, Gibbs, but I like my social interactions." She paused, encountered a Gibbs' stare so hurried on. "So, I ran a DNA test," she said.

"And?" asked McGee, "Did you get a match?"

"No," said Abby. "Well, no and yes."

"Abs," said Gibbs warningly, "I can cut off the CafPow, you know."

"You wouldn't do that," gasped Abby, "OK, you totally would. Right, DNA. The DNA shows a familial match … don't you love that word? Familial," she drawled, "I like it almost as much as Ducky likes exsanguination. Not that Ducky likes exsanguination, of course, but he likes the word."

"Abby," said Gibbs, reaching over for the CafPow.

"Right," said Abby hastily, as she moved it out of Gibbs' reach, "the DNA is a close match to Edward Manzoto."

"The guy who ATF and the Coastguard caught smuggling millions of cigarettes into the country?" asked McGee.

"The very same, Agent Borin was over the moon," said Abby happily.

"But he's in prison," said McGee.

"She said it's a  _familial_  match, McGee, weren't you listening?" barked Gibbs. "How close a match, Abs?"

"Close," said Abby, "I think probably a son."

"I'll run family details," said McGee.

"Done and done," crowed Abby, "Edward Manzoto has three sons. One is ten years old. I think we can rule him out unless he's some sort of child genius. If that's the right word for a master criminal." She met Gibbs' stern gaze once more, "so moving on. He has another son who's twenty five but as far as I can tell he's living a law-abiding life in Canada. He works in a rehabilitation centre for recovering alcoholics. He actually sounds like a good guy."

"I'm guessing the third son is the bad seed," prompted Gibbs.

"You are right, as usual, my maestro," said Abby, "Felipe Manzoto. Twenty seven years old. Recently moved to DC. Lives in a swanky apartment but has no visible means of support. And look," she brought up his drivers' license photo on the screen, "medium height, brown hair and no distinguishing features."

"That's good work, Abby," praised Gibbs.

"But why would Felipe shoot Jerry?" asked Abby.

"We think Jerry might have been buying illegal liquor," said McGee.

"And it looks as if Felipe is branching out from what Daddy dearest did," said Gibbs. "I'm guessing Jerry fell behind with payments."

"Oh," said Abby sadly, "so Jerry was doing something illegal."

Gibbs shrugged, "we'll find out. If he's lucky he hasn't paid with his life. Come on, McGee, we need to get a BOLO out on Felipe."

NCISNCIS

Tony was walking towards Theresa's apartment when he spotted her in a café across the road. He smiled and walked over to her table.

"Ms Livingstone," he said politely.

Theresa gasped, "Agent DiNozzo," she said, "this is a surprise."

Tony smiled appreciatively, "may I sit down?"

"Uh, yes, of course."

"You're not here early to meet anyone?"

Theresa laughed in embarrassment, "another fifteen minutes and I'd have put a huge red carnation in my button hole this morning," she admitted.

"Blind date?" asked Tony, "or computer dating?"

"Blind date," said Theresa, "I don't do computer dating. Too complicated. And after this I won't do blind dating either. I don't think he ever showed up."

"Police cars and ambulances might have scared him off," said Tony trying to be fair.

"I guess," said Theresa, taking a sip of her drink. "So, Agent DiNozzo, you've worked out that I was on a date this morning. Does that make any difference to your investigation?"

"Not really," admitted Tony, "but you intrigued me, Ms Livingstone."

"Really," said Theresa, "I don't often intrigue people. I'm not really a femme fatale."

"You reminded me of something, or someone," said Tony, "my co-workers thought it was probably a movie. I'm a big fan of movies. What about you?"

"Me? No, I'm not that keen on films. I prefer reading. Or even the radio."

"I thought so," said Tony, "it started when you mistook me for Agent McGee."

"I apologise," said Theresa.

"It's never happened before," mused Tony, "yes, he's the same height as me and we were wearing the same jacket. But really, if you knew us, you'd know we're nothing alike."

"Again, I apologise," said Theresa."

"And you sniffed when you found out I wasn't Tim," said Tony.

"Yes?"

"And you did it again. Just now."

"You're wearing a very distinctive cologne," said Theresa.

"I know," said Tony, "but sniffing out a cologne isn't usually the first thing people do."

"So?"

"Miss Livingstone, do you have prosopagnosia?"

"What?"

"Face blindness. Do you have face blindness?"

"I know what it is, Agent DiNozzo. I was just surprised that you knew. Yes, I have prosopagnosia. How did you know?"

"I knew someone at college who had it, Tess. She did the same as you did. Mistook me for her boyfriend when we came off the basketball court – we were all wearing the same kit at the time. She had no memory for faces. She had other ways of compensating. She tried to smell people – which wasn't all that helpful with sweaty ball players! She worked out who people were from their walk, from their clothes, their voices. It was difficult. And because she didn't have a memory for faces, they weren't all that important to her. Most people look you in the face some of the time when they're talking to you; she knew it would make people more comfortable if she did so she tried but it wasn't very convincing."

"Wow," said Theresa, "you really do know about it, don't you?"

"I remember that it was tough for her. That she tried to hide it from people," said Tony.

"It's hard to convince people," sighed Theresa, "people think I'm rude for forgetting them, or that I'm not trying hard enough."

"And that's why you couldn't describe the shooter this morning," said Tony, "or even remember if Jerry had been in the bar."

"Yes," said Theresa, "if I'd been expecting it I might have made a better job of it, but it took me by surprise and I didn't have my 'coping' mechanisms in place. And he didn't get near enough for me to sniff him and he didn't speak."

"That's OK," said Tony reassuringly, "I'm glad we worked it out. For a while there we thought you might be in on it in some way."

"Oh," said Theresa in some alarm, "but I did my best."

"I know," said Tony, "it just seemed a bit … off, you know."

"I was going to call you," said Theresa.

"Why?"

"I remembered that he pulled his mask down with his left hand and had his gun tucked in to the right. I guess that might make him left handed?"

Tony smiled at her although he realised that the gesture was wasted as Theresa wouldn't register it. He looked across the street to her apartment and the smile faded.

"Theresa, I think we may have forgotten something."

"What?"

"That the shooter doesn't know that you can't describe him."

"So?"

"So, a nondescript guy is hovering outside your apartment building."

"There must be lots of guys like that," said Theresa hopefully.

"Yeah. But this one looks familiar. And I don't like the way he's standing there."

"You think he's the shooter?" asked Theresa nervously.

"I don't think we want to hang around to find out," said Tony, "do you trust me?"

"Sure," said Theresa, "you figured out the face blindness. And you wear a nice cologne. What's not to trust?"

"OK," Tony squeezed her hand, "we'll go out the back way quietly and call my Boss."

Tony flashed his badge at a surprised café owner and they went hand in hand through the kitchen and out into the back alley. Tony paused to look down the street and called Gibbs.

"Boss. DiNozzo here. I'm with Ms Livingstone. There's someone outside her apartment block who I don't like the look of. Looks familiar. … Manzoto? You think  _he's_  involved? OK, we'll wait here till you come pick us up."

It turned out that Theresa's luck was much like Tony's. As they waited in the shadows, a young boy went out of control on his skateboard and sped towards their hideout. They were forced to jump out of the way to avoid a collision but the sound of the crash drew Manzoto's gaze towards them. He raised his gun to shoot.

Tony shoved Theresa out of the way just in time and then rolled to pick her up.

"Hope you're good at running," he muttered, as he pulled her in front of him. The street was emptying quickly at the sound of the gunfire but Tony was reluctant to fire until all the civilians, including the dazed skateboarder, had made it to cover. He and Theresa started running but he soon realised that Felipe had come with reinforcements. Tony stopped running and thrust Theresa behind a trashcan, hoping it would provide some cover.

He raised his badge so everyone could see it,

"It's over, Manzoto," he shouted, "give yourself up."

"I don't think so," said Felipe, "you're on your own. Besides, I've got nothing to lose."

"She can't pick you out," said Tony, "she's got face blindness."

"She can see well enough," said Felipe, "don't try and fool me."

"It's a special type of blindness," said Tony, still trying to play for time, "she can't remember faces. She doesn't know what you looked like."

For answer, a bullet pinged by Tony's feet.

"You need to be a better shot if you're going to follow in Daddy's footsteps," said Tony, hoping he might be provoked into bad aim, "guess that's how you managed to miss Jerry at point-blank range." Tony raised his gun but could see the wobbly skateboarder wandering behind Felipe. Tony was confident in his marksmanship but wouldn't risk it until absolutely necessary.

"Help is on the way," shouted Tony, "we're not on our own."

"Oldest trick in the book," shouted back Felipe.

Tony cursed inwardly. Felipe was both right and wrong. Right that it was the oldest trick and wrong that reinforcements weren't on their way: it was just that Tony wasn't sure they would arrive in time.

"Tony! Look out!" shouted Theresa who had spotted Felipe's companion sneaking up from the other side.

Tony whirled round and shot the new arrival who fell to the ground. Unfortunately, Felipe took the opportunity to let off another round which this time hit Tony in the arm. Tony fell to the ground and the gun tumbled from his hand. Before he could reach it, Theresa had grabbed it and pointed it at Felipe who was walking towards them with the obvious intent of finishing the job.

"Hah!" he laughed, "that won't work. You're blind!"

"I can see you fine," said Theresa, "I don't need to see your face to shoot you!"

Felipe hesitated but then blustered on, "you won't shoot me. You don't even know how to hold the gun!"

Theresa tightened her grip and said determinedly, "try me! Do you really want to risk it?"

"If you were going to do it you'd have done it by now. You won't shoot me!" Manzoto repeated with more confidence.

Tony smiled. It might have been wasted on Theresa but it was still worth it.

" _She_  might not," came another voice, "but I will."

"That's not Agent McGee," said Theresa.

"No," agreed Tony, "that's Agent Gibbs. My Boss. Nice to see you, Boss!" As he fell back to the ground he managed to say, "Better take the gun off her, Boss, before she shoots you."

NCISNCIS

Some hours later, Gibbs and the rest of the team arrived at the hospital to check on Tony and Theresa. Tony's arm had been stitched up and a minimum of painkillers administered. Theresa's shoulder was bruised where Tony had flung her to the ground but there was no real damage. Tony was beginning to get restless and had just stepped off his gurney when Gibbs and the others swept in.

"Where do you think you're going, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs.

"Nowhere," said Tony sulkily, "still waiting for sign off from the doc."

"And that's the right answer, Anthony," said Ducky genially, "I have spoken to your doctor and she will be along with your discharge papers momentarily."

"How's Jerry?" asked Tony.

"He's conscious," said Bishop, "and expected to make a full recovery. He says he managed to dive out of the way at the last minute, saved his life."

"What's going to happen to him?" asked Tony.

"He's going to admit what he did," said Gibbs, "he says he just bought the dodgy alcohol once, or so he thought, when he was in a tight position but then Manzoto and his goons put pressure on him to keep going. He's willing to turn states evidence. I don't think he'll go to prison but he'll probably lose his liquor license."

"He'd probably be better off just running Munro's as a coffee bar," said Theresa.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"I know about these things," she said, "extending the premises hasn't increased the footfall of the place. I think focusing on just a coffee bar would make better economic sense." Although she couldn't judge the expressions on her companions' faces, Theresa could feel their surprise, "perhaps I could talk to Jerry about it," she suggested, "I'd quite like to get in at the ground level of a place like that. I'm a bit bored with conglomerates and big business."

Abby squeezed her happily, hoping that some good could come of the shooting even for Jerry.

"Perhaps we'll see you again," she said, "at Jerry's?"

"Well, Abs," began Tony, "that would be great but don't be surprised if Theresa doesn't recognise …"

Theresa stopped him with a hand on his arm, "don't worry, Tony," she said, "Somehow I think Abby is unforgettable!"

Bishop and Tim left to go back to the Navy Yard while Gibbs went to collect the car. Ducky went to chivvy the doctor along, leaving Theresa and Tony alone.

"Thank you, Tony," she said, "I think you saved my life."

Tony shifted a little uncomfortably, "we should have thought about it sooner," he admitted.

"Face blindness is rare," said Theresa, "you couldn't be expected to know.

"Not that," said Tony, "but we should have thought you might have been in danger."

"Well, it's OK now. And I'm glad to have met someone who understands about prosopagnosia."

"Do you always get places early?" asked Tony, "Tess always did."

"Yes," said Theresa, "means that people find me. I don't have to try and find them."

"And she hated movies too," remembered Tony.

"It's not that I hate them," said Theresa, "but they have too many people in them. Too many characters. I can't keep track of their faces."

Tony's face lit up. "Hey! You're giving me a movie challenge!"

"What?" asked Theresa.

"I  _love_  movies," said Tony enthusiastically, "I bet I can find loads with hardly any characters. Let me see. There's  _Sleuth, Dial M for Murder … Rear Window."_

"Great," said Theresa doubtfully, "are there any  _cheerful_ movies _?"_

"Cheerful?" said Tony, "oh … well, that may be more tricky. Tricky, but not impossible. Now, let me see."

"Good news, Anthony," said Ducky coming into the room, "your Doctor says you can go."

"In a minute, Ducky," said Tony, "I've got movies to think about."

A few minutes later, Gibbs came back, "what's the hold up?" he demanded, "Thought you were on the way down?"

Ducky pointed to the bed where Tony and Theresa were sitting engrossed in their discussion, "you will have to wait, Jethro. Anthony is in  _movie_ mode.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd wanted to write a story about prosopagnosia ever since I found out about it … I'd always thought how difficult it must be to live with and how complicated it would be if someone found themselves as an eye witness to a crime. I also wanted to write a non-angsty team fic where everyone contributes – that's something of a departure for me!


End file.
